


After

by these_dreams_go_on



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy Blake Loves Clarke Griffin, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Sharing a Bed, Somewhat Fluffy, not really any angst, not really any sex either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/these_dreams_go_on/pseuds/these_dreams_go_on
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke finally get together but it's not all smooth sailing.This somewhat continues on from my Three Lives story but can be read as a standalone. A drabble I wrote up because so many of the stories end when they confess their love for one another and I don't think it'd all be Happily Ever After.Still, this is moderately angst free, just a small issue that's never been addressed in the show but might have Clarke superstitious and concerned.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	After

Bellamy hadn’t known what to expect when he and Clarke had finally got together.

They’d had a tender kiss on the beach at sunset, said ‘I love you’ and then been interrupted by Miller coming to inform them that Jackson had fallen out of a tree and possibly broken his leg.

Which, now that he thought about it, was surprising that they hadn’t been interrupted by something a lot more dire.

Although, he figures one of their near-confessions had already been cut off by the end of the world, so there was not really anywhere to go but down from there.

One thing had piled on top of another and it had been close to two days before they had time to do more than fire updates or instructions at each other and hurry away again.

But at least he’d learnt one new thing about Clarke.

She wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection. He’d tried to kiss her, and she’d put a hand on his arm to stop him, her eyes glancing around to show him all the people who would be able to see them. He’d given her a small nod, trying to hide his pain, but she’d taken his hand and squeezed it to show that she wasn’t rejecting him before being called away.

That evening, when he was splitting wood and trying to get a handle on the soft, bouncy texture of this planet’s trees, she strode over and waited for him to put down the axe before resting a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, he stands still and enjoys her touch through his t-shirt, the way her thumb rubs him soothingly and her fingers tighten just enough so that he can feel it.  
  


“Hey,” she prompts gently, “Let’s eat.”  
  


She doesn’t like holding hands, but they walk across the camp so closely that they wouldn’t even have the space to show this little display of affection.

And he wonders what it says about them that nobody even gives them a second glance.

Bellamy thought they were being pretty telling but no-one else seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Had his love for Clarke always been so visible to everyone around him?

He’s glad the flush from his hard work hides his embarrassment, although he’s certain that he’s wearing a bashful smile on his face.

The campfire outside Madi’s tent is crackling away but unoccupied and they claim it quickly, sitting close to one another and he’s about to leave her there to claim their food when Madi bounds up.

  
“Heya!” she shouts, clambering between them even though Bellamy was sure he’d left minimal space and leaning heavily against Clarke. “How was your day?”

  
He’d never been at a loss for words with Clarke before, no matter what the situation, they’d always been able to talk to one another and he’d even only had a few seconds of panic about what they’d discuss when he’d realised they’d get to eat alone.

It didn’t matter now, Madi completely monopolized her for the duration of the meal, he’d planned on bringing three plates but one of the perks of being commander is that Madi got served where she sat.

The two of them compare their day, chattering in half-sentences and answering unasked questions in between mouthfuls of food and Bellamy falls into a trance, watching the fire burning before he feels an elbow in his side and starts.

  
“Sorry.” Madi says, already bounding away and the same part of him that still thought Octavia was too young to be kissing strange grounders worried about where she was running off to.

  
Until Clarke closes the distance between them and places her hand on top of his, distracting him to the point where he almost drops his spoon.

  
“Sorry,” she echoes, “Madi is used to…”

“Don’t apologise,” he interrupts, “She’s your family,”

A tiny frown mars her brow, “You’re my family too.” she reminds him, but he shakes his head.

“She’s a child,” he says, “She comes first, and I don’t have a problem with that.”

  
Smiling, she reaches up and kisses him, a lingering kiss that has him imagining what they could possibly be doing later that night.

* * *

Two weeks later, he’s still using his imagination.

He’s woken by the sound of that damn cackling mammal-like creature that nobody had managed to kill yet and he rolls over only to nearly crush Clarke.

She’s curled on her side, her back to him, still fast asleep and he’s not entirely sure how especially because Madi wasn’t….

Madi wasn’t in the tent.

They were _alone_.

Slowly, so as not to jostle the bed too much, he props himself up on his elbow and reaches out to stroke her hair back from her neck. Her breathing is deep and even, not even reacting as he shifts closer to ghost his lips against her skin. She’s warm and soft and he can’t resist pressing a kiss to her neck, going from barely noticeable quick touches to lingering and his own body is starting to react.

When he gently sucks on her pulse point, she moans before rolling over onto her back and slowly waking up.

  
“Bellamy?” she whispers, her voice hoarse from sleep, “What are you doing?”

He grins as he brushes her hair back from her face, “We’re alone, Princess.”

  
She smiles and reaches up to cup his cheek, drawing him back down for another kiss. Wrapping an arm over his shoulder and spreading her legs so that he could sink between her thighs, her tongue slips into his mouth and teases his.

He shifts onto an elbow, so he doesn’t crush her and slides his other hand to her hip, over the pyjamas she’d stolen from Sanctum and finding a gap in the material, slips under to cup her waist and when she continues kissing him, he risks moving it higher until he’s touching her rib cage.

And then…

She breaks their kiss and peppers kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek and then a playful kiss on his nose. It would be sweet if it wasn’t the first signal of rejection.

And he knows it is because he knows her routine by heart at this point.

Next, her hands slide off his shoulders, pressing against his chest and she lies back against the pillows, creating as much space between them as she can while still under him. She does this all while wearing a tender smile and her eyes are full of love for him.

It still doesn’t hurt any less. 

  
“Clarke…” he whispers her name as she looks to the entrance of the tent, as if half of their people were going to walk in right that second.

“We should probably start the day,” she murmurs, starting to pull herself up into a sitting position and he pushes himself back onto his knees, mentally preparing himself for the conversation they had to have.

“Clarke,” he reaches out and takes her hand gently, “If you don’t want me to kiss you, if you want to step back from this relationship that’s okay but you have to tell me.”

  
Her head whips back to him so fast he has to take a moment to replay the words in his mind and make sure he hadn’t somehow threatened Madi in that sentence.

Nope but she was still watching him through slightly narrowed eyes, the same way she did when presented with a problem and was trying to think her way through to the solution.

  
“I love you, Bellamy,” she states, “I just…”

_‘Need to find Madi’_

  
It was her go-to excuse when she pulled away from him and in the beginning, he’d accepted it at face value.

After everything the two of them had been through, Madi and Clarke had a touch of separation anxiety. Clarke liked to have a general idea of where she was at all times and Bellamy had tried to talk Madi down when she’d asked him to sew a tracking device into Clarke’s jacket.

He’d thought he’d been successful but when he’d checked her collar later that same day, he’d recognised the messy stitching that was his sister’s handiwork.

But between himself, Gaia and those dedicated to keeping the Commander alive and well, Madi struggled to find time when she wasn’t been watched and protected.

And recently, Clarke had been practising leaving Madi’s side for increasing lengths of time, so he knew that wasn’t the real reason she was pulling away from him.

Which made him wonder…

If the issue was with _him?_

With how he looked.

He knew he wasn’t the same good looking guy who’d gone entire days shirtless when they’d first landed on Earth. He’d aged and had found a few grey hairs to prove it, along with a slight paunch around his middle from years of inactivity in space.

He knew Clarke loved him, but what if she wasn’t attracted to him?

He must have asked that very question with his eyes because she sighed and shifted so that she was sitting beside him on their tiny bed, their sides touching and he puts his hands in his lap so that he doesn’t wrap an arm around her to pull her close.

  
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she mumbles, and he scoffs,

“When have I _ever_ thought you were crazy, Princess?” he asks and they share a wry smile before she glances down at her knees,

“Finn, Lexa, Roan and Cillian,” she begins, “What do they all have in common?”

  
Bellamy has to take a second to remember who Cillian is and then runs the names through his mind.

His first thought was that they were all dead.

He’d never actually had the doctor’s death confirmed but he’d never come around after his night with Clarke and Bellamy refused to consider that anyone could be so lucky as to sleep with her and be able to walk away afterwards.

Sleep…

  
“You and Roan?” he asks, looking at her curiously and she nods, clearing her throat nervously,

“When we were on Becca’s island…it didn’t mean much, but it was comforting.”

He ignores the stab of jealousy because he guessed the answer, “You had sex with them.”

She nods again, “I had sex with all of them and then they died.”

  
He’s failing to see the connection, but she huffs before leaning against him, her weight a warm comfort against his side. 

  
“This is the part where you’ll think I’m crazy,” she explains, “When I have sex with people, when I allow myself to be vulnerable with them, they die and I…I can’t go through that again, not with you.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” He responds, automatically.

  
It had been established by the two of them over a century ago that she was the logical one and he was the emotional one. But their roles seemed to be reversed at this moment.

  
“What about Niylah?” he argues, and she shrugs, “Beaten and tortured by people hunting me before the bed was even cold.”

“She’s alive though.” he points out, remembering back to only yesterday when his sister had run up to the poor grounder, handed over baby Hope and said something along the lines of ‘Tag, you’re it.’ before running off again.

Clarke squirms slightly, “She and I never went all the way,” she says, “The first couple of times I was too cagey and then after that, I was always too tired.”

  
He knows it’s inappropriate, but he feels a stab of sympathy for the poor woman before reminding himself that same woman was now sharing a tent with his sister and he knew for a fact that there weren’t two sleeping mats in there.

  
“I know it’s crazy,” Clarke repeats, a little defensively, “A part of me knows that I didn’t kill Finn, Lexa, Roan or Cillian, reason tells me it was bad luck and the world around us but another part of me is terrified that if I give in, if I have sex with you that you’ll die and I…I can’t…” she breaks off and sniffs, her voice becoming watery,

“I can’t lose you, Bellamy.”

  
Clarke’s tears trigger something within him, and he has his arm around her shoulders to pull her close against him so he can comfort her before he’s even realised that he’s moved.

  
“Hey,” he murmurs, cupping her head in his hand, “It’s okay, I’m…”

  
He was about to say he wasn’t going anywhere but even in this time of relative peace, he couldn’t promise that, so he thinks of something else to say.

  
“If you need time, take all the time you need,” He tells her, “I’ve waited a century, what’s another few years?”

She chuckles and wipes at her eyes, “I’m working on it,” she swears, “It probably won’t be that long.”

He shrugs, “You can’t help being so passionately in love with me that you’re afraid to lose me.”

She laughs and tilts her head back to look into his eyes, “That’s what you took away from this, huh?”

He tries to smother the smile creeping across his face, “You’re in love with me.” he teases, as if he hasn’t been hopelessly in love with her for most of the time that he’s known her.

  
She reaches up and runs her thumb over his lips, 

  
“Not just in love with you,” she admits, her voice husky and his mind immediately delves into sinful thoughts territory before coming up with a brilliant idea. 

“How far did you and Niylah go?” he asks, and she grins before pulling him in for a kiss.

* * *

  
  
Two days later, he falls off a cliff.

His first thought is ‘I’m falling’ which makes sense.

His second thought as he sees the cliff face retreating and the sky above is ‘Clarke will blame herself for this’

His third thought was ‘Thank god for this river’

Followed quickly by ‘I can’t swim’

Thankfully, when he hits the bottom, he can kick off again with enough force that his head breaks the surface of the water and he manages to keep himself up long enough for Gabriel and Indra to drag him out and dump him on the grass.

He has water in his lungs and spots dancing across his vision, he spits up something liquid and hopes it’s not blood before he turns his head in the direction that he thinks Indra is in.

  
“Don’t tell Clarke.” he begs before he loses consciousness.  
  


* * *

  
  
Unfortunately, Indra had never really liked him all that much and even if she’d cared for him half as much as she cared for his sister, she wouldn’t have kept his accident from Clarke.

She couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to.

He’d needed medical treatment which had meant Indra going back to the village while Gabriel administered first aid, fetching the stretcher and someone to help, then carrying him through the woods and to the medical bay on the Elgius ship.

They’d probably been seen by a dozen or more people, anyone of whom would have notified Madi or his sister and both of them would have told Clarke.

So by the time he wakes up, still on the stretcher so at least he didn’t have to worry about a serious head injury, he hears Clarke issuing instructions and knows he doesn’t stand a chance of hiding this from her.

  
“It wasn’t that bad,” he tries to argue as he’s shifted to the bed and coughs up some more water,

“Anyone could have tripped and fallen off.”

  
But Gabriel seems to think otherwise.

  
“We’ve been traversing that cliff for centuries now and nobody has ever fallen off it before,” he interjects unnecessarily and uninvitedly, “I’m still not sure how you managed.”

  
He’s wet, sore and exhausted but Bellamy makes a mental note to volunteer that stupid, over-lived idiot to spar with his sister during her next training session.

See how immortal he was when facing down the best swordswoman on the planet.

Clarke and Jackson are talking medical jargon to each other and when he tries to make up some lie about the ground having been slippery or having crumbled underneath him due to centuries of foot traffic, she only puts a hand on his chest rubbing comfortingly but otherwise ignoring him.  
  


* * *

  
After the initial excitement has died down and people are no longer concerned or excited about the idea that he might die, the medical bay empties out until it’s just him and Clarke.

His throat had been sore from coughing up all the water, but they’d given him something to soothe the burn. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was only that it felt great except for the fact that he was still struggling to speak.

When Clarke settles down in the chair beside his bed, he turns his hand palm up for her and she takes it between hers, bringing it to her mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

  
“I know,” she answers before he can even speak, “I know it’s not my fault that you fell off that cliff, I know that it was just an accident and it wasn’t caused by you going down on me but…” she breaks off, holding his hand under her chin, “I told you so, I guess?”

  
If his head didn’t hurt so much, he’d roll his eyes, but he’s forced to settle for chucking her under the chin,

  
“You’ll see,” he rasps, “Next time I’ll be fine.”

* * *

  
A month later, Clarke is recovered enough from the scare of having had him fall off the cliff to lead him into the forest at sunset and drops to her knees, taking him in her mouth and making him see stars.

And not even three hours later, he brings the axe down the wrong way while splitting wood and ends up with a ten inch splinter deep in his thigh.

It would be another year before they completely consummated their relationship.

But Bellamy was right to suspect that it was worth the wait.


End file.
